


What's In a Name

by The_Lady_Crane



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Intimacy, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, Male Slash, Mild Sexual Content, Morning After, Naked Cuddling, Post-Canon, Probably borders on purple prose, Romance, Sleepy Cuddles, True Love, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lady_Crane/pseuds/The_Lady_Crane
Summary: If there’s one thing Soren loves more than the shape of Ike’s name on his lips, it’s the sound of his own on Ike’s.---An intimate morning-after drabble with a side of introspection.
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	What's In a Name

**Author's Note:**

> I spent all day yesterday mired in a new (for me) romance novel trilogy, and I spent all night mired in tossing and turning fantasies and sex-doused stupor. My husband did his duty, and now I do mine as a woman of the printed word. (Or, basically, I felt like writing this and now it's here for all to see and I'm probably going to wake up from a nap later and realize that I did a terrible job).

“Ike.”

It was one of his pleasures, taken in secret to himself even when in a crowded room. Saying the name, forming the single syllable, meant everything to Soren. It had been the first word he could ever remember speaking. It had been the first name he had ever called with any kind of emotion, that fired through his senses with a delightful shock, that rolled off his tongue with more ease than any other word.

“Ike.”

He indulged himself whenever he could, whenever the opportunity arose. There was so much wrapped up in that name – friend, commander, rescuer.

Lover, as of last night.

When his indulgence resulted in blue eyes shifting to look at him, Soren could hardly remember how to breathe. And as each meaning was layered on top of the others, wrapped in those three letters, the response in his heart grew more powerful.

Now, lying in a bed bathed in early morning sunlight, saying that name makes him feel exposed in ways that a simple lack of clothing could never evoke. It never grows easier, and he never wants the feeling to stop. It is raw and powerful, like Ike’s honest gaze on him, like the ripple of magic throughout his limbs. His soul trembles every time he says Ike’s name, and his body follows, just slightly, when Ike looks at him in response.

Ike doesn’t seem to mind. He smiles at Soren, still a little sleep-drugged, and reaches out. The brush of Ike’s rough fingers on his cheek is enough to make Soren shiver. He leans into the touch, his eyes half-closed, a smile on his own face.

“Morning,” Ike says almost unnecessarily.

Soren shifts a little to the side so he can more openly devour the picture of Ike early in the morning, unclothed, unshaven, unguarded. “Good morning, Ike.” Again, the trembling in his core, the pleased thrum of his heart as the word takes shape on his lips.

They gaze at each other, Ike seemingly as enraptured as Soren, and for once, Soren feels only reciprocal appreciation. No uncertainty. No shame. He is acutely aware of cool air on his bare shoulder, of warm sunlight on the single leg that lies uncovered on the sheets. He doesn’t care. Ike has seen into him now, has joined with him in all the most intimate ways. There are no more barriers between them. No more secrets.

The old fort is echoing with the sounds of the other mercenaries. Warm summer air brings an argument to them (Boyd and Rolf, again, with Mist chiming in soon after they begin their exchange). The world will have to wait for them. For now, they relax and enjoy the sight and feel of each other, the faint scents of sweat and sex rising whenever they shift on the straw mattress.

Last night, there had been a hurried pace to their union. They had waited until their return to the fort, had endured a long march from Begnion, from Begnion to Gallia, from Gallia to Crimea, and finally from the capitol to home. There had been so many words and feelings exchanged, but they both wanted to wait until they were back at the familiarity of the fort, and away from prying eyes and curious ears in the camps and castles at which they stayed on their journey. Last night, they had hastened to fulfill the need that their bodies had been striving for, unsated, for weeks. But this morning, there is no rush. They have all the time in the world.

“Ike,” Soren says, unaware almost of saying it, as he stared at his companion’s handsome face. A slight quirk of the corner of Ike’s mouth makes him all the more handsome.

“Yeah?” His voice is rough from sleep. Soren moves closer, finally closing off his view as he bunts his head against Ike’s jaw. Ike wraps his arms around the smaller man, pulling him close, breathing in the scent at the base of his throat. Soren settles with his nose resting in spiked hair, runs his fingers through it and feels a resonating flutter start up in his chest.

“What is it, Soren?”

 _Soren._ He feels inordinately pleased by that. If there’s one thing he loves more than the shape of Ike’s name on his lips, it’s the sound of his own on Ike’s.

Ike gets his attention by biting playfully at his neck. Soren gasps, then lets out a small laugh, his arms circling Ike’s shoulders. “I- I like to say your name, sometimes…” Soren admits, and he’s a little taken aback by his own confession. It’s something he’s never openly contemplated, even to himself.

The low chuckle rumbles in Ike’s chest. “You like saying my name?”

“Yes…” For the first time, Soren feels the blush of shame. “I’m sorry, it’s—”

“Hey, don’t be shy. It’s me.”

Those strong, warm arms are around him, and they shift him so that he and Ike are now face to face. Soren feels heat creeping up his body. Ike’s gaze is intense, open, disarming as it always is. “You like to say my name. So, say it.”

“Ike…” He can’t help it. It comes out of him, intimate, leaving him breathless like their first kiss, like the first time Ike had looked at him.

Ike can see something in Soren’s eyes, and he apparently likes it. His own blue gaze grows darker, and he shifts forward, leaning over Soren, their noses almost touching. “Say it again.” His breath is warm against Soren’s lips, his voice commanding but vulnerable, like a strong pillar about to crumble.

“Ike…” Soren feels the first stirrings of physical arousal following close on the arousal in his heart. Ike groans, a sweetly pained sound.

“Soren…”

Then they’re kissing, and it’s a sensation that mirrors the exchange of names. Soren can feel his own name in Ike’s lips, on his tongue. He gives himself, and greedily indulges in what is offered in return. The name leaves him over and over, and his own name follows, like an answer to his prayer.


End file.
